


more me than I had ever been myself

by stormyks



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: M/M, who this story is about is up to the reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-23 19:01:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19707499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormyks/pseuds/stormyks
Summary: Memories of a summer romance somewhere in Northern Italy, in the summer of 1983 or 2016.





	more me than I had ever been myself

I hadn't slept on the flight to Milan and my head swam as I walked out of the airport into the afternoon sun. I was ready to fall asleep instantly, but also too wired to even consider closing my eyes. I stuffed my bags and myself into the car and tried to find a comfortable place for my knees as we wound through the Lombardian countryside. 

Orchards and sunlit fields rolled by the open window. In the distance I could see mountains still topped with snow. In halting Italian, I tried to ask the driver what mountains they were. "L'Alpi Orobie" he replied. We were only half an hour away from the airport, but already it seemed like a different world, outside the normal passage of time. 

With each tiny village we drove through, my excitement for my summer here grew. Back home it was already too hot. I had been stuck in traffic getting to the airport and almost missed the flight. Here the worst traffic appeared to be dodging tractors as they crossed towards the next field. For moments here and there, when I caught a glimpse of another Alpine view or silly-green meadow, my excitement managed to eclipse the nervousness I'd had twisting in my guts for the last few weeks.

I had a lot of work ahead of me. I still couldn't quite believe that I had been chosen for this, even as we turned a corner and the duomo of Crema came into view. This was probably the most important moment of my career so far. I was in a rut---I was working constantly, but everything felt uninspired and nothing was coming together the way I hoped. These few brief weeks in Italy were my shot. I was here to work with a true genius. I still couldn't believe that this man, who I admired so much, wanted to work with me. And here I was pulling up to his house, jet lagged, nervous, eager.

* * *

* * *

"I could show you around..." the kid said, looking up at me through his dark eyelashes.

It had been a while since I'd been on a bike. He and I pedaled down the cobblestones and out onto paths through the fields.

He rode out in front, pointing things out. The path down to the river, the road that went past the orchards, then town. It wasn't very big, you could ride all the way across it in ten minutes or so. He showed me his spots - the cafe, the gelateria, the bar. At the last one we stopped for a drink, sitting on the piazza loud with birds, and chatting about what he'd been up to so far this summer.

I didn't really know what to make of him. He was smart, that much was obvious even after exchanging only a few words. He seemed nervous--he fidgeted, his green eyes holding mine only for a second before looking at his hands or elsewhere. But in another moment he would say something far too wise for his years. And while he was thin and lanky and sometimes looked so young, he walked with a little swagger and it was clear that he was perfectly at home in his skin. He fascinated me.

* * *

* * *

I had never known anyone who wore their emotions as close to the surface as he did. Each feeling would pass across his face, tiny expressions letting you follow the full trajectory of his thoughts. It sometimes made me feel like I could read his mind. I was used to the opposite, poker faces I had to study for a hint at the truth, or a facade of easy charm meant to put everyone at ease.

It made it easy to play off of him, tossing jabs back when a curl of his lip told me he was teasing, or listening carefully when the solemn slant of his eyebrows revealed a deep love for the piece of music he was describing.

His unguardedness made me jealous, actually. Here was someone who never got bullied in school for being different. A person who felt the safety of their parents' unconditional love. Someone who hadn't practiced hiding who he was away from the people closest to him.

Even though I was jealous sometimes, it made me happy to know that he had never needed the walls or the poker face or the armor.

I really liked him a lot. Too much.

* * *

* * *

  
Everything in Crema was a dream. It was almost a caricature how beautiful it was. Every glass of wine, every apricot, every gelato felt like a revelation. Somehow the most mundane sounds - of cows, cicadas, mopeds rushing through town - became music. I sat in the piazza with a beer just listening to those birds - what were those Italian birds?

One day we all sat at the table with the view of the peach trees, sipping espresso, smoking, debating the strange state of politics. Later he and I would be in the pool for hours, immersed in sunlight and cold, fresh water. 

"I'm here to work", I kept repeating to myself as the afternoons stretched on languidly, my skin growing darker by the day while he stayed remarkably, perfectly, pale.

"I'm here to work", I tried to remember as we raced each other down the curved roads on bikes, laughing at stupid jokes the other had crafted.

"I'm here to work", I chanted in my head as my eyes, hidden by sunglasses, followed the curve of his dripping back as he hunched over the side of the pool.

At some point, the voice that reminded me of work started to quiet, replaced by a voice that told me "Savor this. Nothing will ever be like this again."

I remember a dinner one weekend, which had started as more of a late lunch, that stretched through the sky turning orange then dark blue. Course after course appeared on the table, along with wine, then espresso, then wine again, then grappa. Animated conversation was interspersed with moments of comfortable silence. Then, tipsy, he decided it was time to go out dancing. I was at the state of drunkenness where this seemed like a great idea, so we stumbled through the streets bumping shoulders and laughing, rounding up the crew.

* * *

* * *

As the days passed, my nervousness about work transformed into a deep sense of satisfaction in what I was doing here. For the first time I had a true mentor, someone who valued my opinions and challenged me to move beyond my boundaries. Some evenings he and I talked late after dinner, tossing ideas back and forth, offering insights and critiques. He treated me like an equal, there was no hierarchy between us.

Before arriving in Italy, I had spent weeks poring over every line, every fragment of the book, attempting to piece together each bit of insight about this opaque character it was my job to understand. I had piles of notes, ideas and questions written in the margin of every page of my worn copy of the book. I researched his time period, the political climate, his religious beliefs, anything that might let me capture that additional piece of clarity, to show the world what this man was thinking. 

It was initially terrifying to share this with him. I thought he already understood everything about the subject better than I did and he would be disappointed in my meager insights. But he wasn't. One evening he explained to me that there is no "correct" interpretation, and that I should let myself shine through in the work. 

* * *

* * *

An afternoon in the pool. I felt those green eyes on me as I paddled around in the space that was only a little bit longer than my freestyle stroke. In theory he was reading his notes, but I knew his eyes were on me. If I am being honest, I was not making myself unobtrusive. 

I really liked him. He was young and talented and when I'd hear him play piano, I would fill with pride. Sometimes I felt brotherly towards him--we'd race on bikes into town, and I'd toy with him by letting him catch up and overtake me for a while. He was so open and guileless and I wanted to protect him from the world and its judgement. But sometimes my feelings were definitely not brotherly or friendly. When I caught his eye that day at the pool and he quickly turned back to his notes, a reddish patch blooming on his cheek, I knew with a thrill in my stomach that his thoughts weren't brotherly or friendly either.

I'm not sure when, but something between us had changed. A small shift from affection to more. From joking around to flirting. Sometimes I felt like my eyes weren't in focus unless they were on him. I wanted to know where he was at all times and be there too. The urge to make him laugh and hear his adorable wheeze became a compulsion. That afternoon in the pool I finally realized the trouble I was in. Oh god, I really liked him _and_ I was attracted to him.

There was no disputing he was beautiful. His bitten pink lips and those fucking green eyes. He wasn't what I thought of as my type. But sitting now with the realization that I was attracted to him, I suddenly forgot what I'd found attractive in any other man before. What could my type possibly be other than him? 

* * *

* * *

We kissed for the first time lying in the grass. I hadn't expected to kiss him that afternoon, but so it went.

The first touch of our lips was tentative. Both of us caught our breath, heads tilting to find the right angle. When I pulled him in closer by his t-shirt, I felt him gasp slightly and open his mouth under mine. I let go of his shirt in favor of running my hand over the curve of his neck, the ridge of his Adam's apple. I was happy to find his lips felt as improbably plush as they looked. We kissed slowly, open-mouthed, negotiating how we fit together. 

Our second kiss, coming shortly after our first, shed all of the gentle exploration. He pushed me back on the grass, his mouth hard on mine, his tongue pressed past my lips. I held my ground and he moved to climb into my lap, all hesitance gone. 

After that kiss, everything turned electric between us. I sat beside him at the table and all I thought of was touching him. All of my common sense and excuses ("he's too young", "you're here to work") wafted away in the warm, summer breeze.

* * *

* * *

We were in my room, past midnight. We had been in bed together for quite some time already. I was lazy now, content to let him run his fingers over my chest as he lay next to me propped on his elbow.

"You really are 'La Muvi Star' you know." He said, his finger brushing teasingly over my nipple. I rolled my eyes at him and then took the opportunity to flip our positions, pushing him back on the bed.

"I don't know about that, have you seen yourself? I think you might be the movie star here. These curls..." I slid my fingers into his hair and pulled tight, feeling the silk of it in my grasp. His eyes slipped shut in pleasure. I kept my hand buried in his hair and held his head so he had to look me in the face, waiting till he opened his eyes again. "Your eyes. Who even has eyes that color?" I watched him smile and blink slowly as I stared at him. "God, your lips..." 

I kissed him, my hand tight in his hair. I held him still as I took his swollen bottom lip between my teeth for a moment. Then I let go of my tight grip on his curls and he rolled us over, repaying me with little bites to my neck, shoulder, then lips. I could go on for hours kissing him, but it was late and we were both ready for more.

* * *

* * *

Another gorgeous Crema summer day. It was mid-afternoon, espresso time for the Italians, and he and I snuck away. We rode through the grassy fields until we found a shady, secluded patch. We had so few days left that we had an unspoken pact to grab each possible moment, catching each other's eyes over the table at lunch to signal the escape.

We kissed for long moments in the field, briefly content with the slide of our lips and tongues. During a breath, he pulled back and held my cheek in the palm of his hand. "You've lost your poker face. Did you know that?" 

"What do you mean?" I asked, warmed by the look of pure fondness he was giving me.

"When you first got here, you always had on your poker face. I couldn't figure out what you were thinking most of the time."

"But you can now?" 

"Yeah, you seem different. Free." He paused. "Happy...?"

I smiled. "Very happy." And pulled him into my lap, kissing him breathless. 

* * *

* * *

Waking up one morning to the sunshine in his curls and an ache in my chest, I knew I was lost.

There had always been an end date, and I never meant to fall in love with him. There was a plane ticket with my name on it, for a flight from Milan back to a life that couldn't include him.

But even if I had been free to be with him, he was too young. He had everything ahead of him still. So many things to experience, school, a career. I would be irredeemably selfish to try to hold on and keep him from all of the joy life had in store for this beautiful, talented man.

* * *

* * *

Another night together in bed with him, stealing every last moment before I had to head home. He had me in his mouth, each swirl of his tongue pushing me closer to the edge. I was so turned on, unable to stop the needy sounds I was making. It was easily the best blow job of my life. And then I realized - he remembered exactly what brought me the most pleasure. His lips dragged up my cock, and I pushed my head back into the pillow, moaning. I had never been with the same man more than once, so none of them had ever learned what to do to make me feel this good, till now, with him. The realization made my chest tighten and tears gather at the edges of my eyes.

I might never have this again.

"Ohhhh, god... Wait. Wait." I said grabbing his shoulder and pulling him off and up to me. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against his, trying to catch my breath.

He looked at me with concern, "Was that ok? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you definitely did everything extremely right." I kissed him gently. "But I wanted to ask you something."

I could feel him hard against my thigh and pressed against him. "Yes, anything." he breathed. 

I buried my head in his neck for a moment then whispered into his ear. "I want you to fuck me. No one has before." He pulled away immediately to look me in the eye. I was so turned on and also a bit embarrassed, and my cheeks warmed as I did my best to hold his gaze.

He nodded frantically. I chuckled at how eager he was. 

Later, with two of his fingers in me, "Is that good? I love it when you do this to me." I gripped harder on the sheets, nodding, "God, yes!" writhing as he pushed his fingers on the spot that lit up my body with pleasure. My eyes rolled back as I moaned "Please!", my vocabulary reduced to just the one word. 

He poured some of the lube we bought at the pharmacia into his palm and stroked himself. There was some pain as he slid in, but then the ache merged into a feeling of fullness and something I wasn't sure was pleasure at first. Then he pushed in further, as far as possible, and I arched into him involuntarily, sparks shooting through me. 

"Oh, fuck." he swore, hitting a rhythm that made my toes curl. 

I loved seeing him so lost in his own pleasure and I tried to keep my eyes on him, even as I stopped being able to focus and my eyelids fought to close. He was close, his motions getting frantic and rougher. I reached down and wrapped a hand around myself, matching his pace as he continued thrusting into me. Coming with him inside me was incredible. It must have been pretty quickly after that he came as well, I felt it inside of me even when I was still on the edge of my own climax. 

He collapsed on top of me and I ran my hand up the back of his neck, through his curls, then pulled his head to my neck. Neither of us able to talk yet, just holding on as our breathing calmed. Eventually, he moved and I released his head. He slid his palm along my cheek. "You were fucking amazing." I whispered. "I've never come that hard before." He grinned and pushed his face back into my neck.

* * *

* * *

We sat together on one of our last nights, hand in hand, talking about the future. Looking at him, I knew I had never been this open with anyone before. I'm not sure I ever would be with anyone again. I felt so comfortable, so safe. I could be myself fully, everything was exposed to him and he accepted it and gave it back to me in return.

I realized I could no longer imagine my life moving forward where I didn't carry this with me. 

* * *

* * *

The pain hit me on the runway in Milan, as we started to accelerate for takeoff. I turned towards the window, hoping to avoid anyone seeing the tears I could no longer hold back. I wanted to sob, but I knew there would be no way to stop if I let myself do that. Holding back that sob felt like a knife in my stomach. How could I go back to my old life after this? Did I even know how to be my former self anymore? I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead on the bulkhead of the plane, trying to calm down with deep breaths.

So this was heartbreak. I had never felt it before, I realized. My last glimpses of Italy dissolved as the plane climbed into clouds. 

I worried that when I got home people would take one look at me and read my big summer romance on my face. I had thrown away all of my armor as soon as he kissed me and now I was defenseless. 

* * *

* * *

I have thought of him and that summer often throughout the years. There were some good times after---a fulfilling career, a life of relative ease, two beautiful, brilliant children who grew into people I was proud to know. There were hard times as well---the end of a marriage that had started with hope, but never reached the part of my heart that held the excruciating and exhilarating feelings I'd shared with him. 

I was never the same again after that summer. I look back now from the vantage point of many years and wonder if he still thinks about me. There's still time, I tell myself. Perhaps the random luck of the universe will bring us back together again some day. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm stormyks at tumblr if you want to chat! 
> 
> I'm pretty new to writing and nervous about putting this out there. But I've been thinking about it for a long time now and I think it is time to let it go. I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
